The Next Great Adventure
by Nezz
Summary: Colin looks back on his life before deciding to move on. All the pictures his soul's taken tell a tale of a life well-lived. Please read and review!


**Written for a challenge on another fanfic site. JKR owns all recognizable characters.**

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He never thought it would come to this. He knew it was a possibility, but he never seriously considered it. Now he spun around, hearing a rustle behind his back. How rude, he thought, to curse someone when they're not looking. How cowardly.

The next thing he felt was the magic hitting him squarely in his shoulder. He saw a masked Death Eater and then felt – no, saw – his body falling. It was as through watching a film in slow motion, or like looking at pictures, taken one after another. He didn't hear the thud of the boy's body falling to the ground. That was funny to him; the young man was now lying on the floor, motionless. He stepped closer to the body, and the face looked somewhat familiar. The boy – no, young man – looked as someone he saw in a mirror recently, and he couldn't quite place it together. Then it hit him – that was him lying there, his empty body – because if he was sure of one thing, he knew that corpse was dead. Wasted. Empty.

As through a déjà vu he saw himself fall again, picture by picture. He stepped back from it, horrified and in disbelief. Astonished, he saw he really was watching pictures, photographs actually, framed in large wooden frames. His surroundings weren't those on the picture of his death – he hardly accepted it, but knew that must be it, and that he was now in another place. Sorrowful with that knowledge, he took another step back, observing the wide and empty white wall in front of him.

Curious, he walked along it, spotting a new picture bursting out of the whiteness, framed in another beautiful frame. The picture didn't move like the ones he was making at Hogwarts; it was like those he used to make when he was just a boy, not even a teenager. And that made him feel small and safe. His sharp mind on its edge, he moved closer and saw his mum and dad, smiling ever-so-happily with a small blue bundle nested in his mother's lap. His dad still had brown hair with no traces of gray and his mum looked as happy as though it was the best day of her life. Mulling over what he saw, he decided that it must be his very birthday. He was wondering who took the picture. It wasn't his dad, since he was on it, and he couldn't either – he probably didn't even realize he existed. Prepared to leave the puzzle for another time, he moved on, half-expecting to see another frame being produced out of nowhere, half-fearing there would be none.

As he walked a bit further – or maybe it was miles, he couldn't really tell – he thought about his parents, and how much they loved him, and how much he loved them. He was happy to see they were so glad when he was born; he couldn't remember, of course.

As his thought rang out in his head – did he even have one here, in this strange place? – he spotted a new picture just as he walked past it. Not afraid anymore, he brought his face closer, recognizing the scene, although he barely remembered it. There were his mum and dad again, as happy as ever one more time. There was also a small boy, about two years of age, with mousy brown hair, laughing at a new little bundle – his little baby brother. He knew now, that that day, even though a mere child, almost a toddler, he promised himself he wouldn't let any harm come to his brother. Nothing would ever harm him as long as his big brother was there for him.

Missing his brother already, he tore himself away from the memories and moved forwards along the magical wall. Now knowing there would be a new photo, he hardly waited to see what else there was in store for him. Bringing up memories he didn't even knew he had was a wonderful, although strange experience.

Again spotting the framed picture in walking by it, he had to smile as he saw the portrayed scene. He had to be about five and his brother three. They were both tugging at the same toy in their brightly coloured room, neither wanting to let it go. They fought a lot, he remembered, but he also loved the little brat deeply. He could almost hear him screaming for dad as through he would make everything okay. And at that time, it seemed as though he could. Dad would always talk to them, read them stories when they were upset and left the light on in the hall to push away the darkness. The young man – was he a man if he was dead, if he actually no longer was? – knew now there were things his dad couldn't protect them from, not even with mum's help. Saddened by that thought, he sought the next picture.

This time he found it quickly, but not before passing it. It showed him again, staring openly at an elderly woman sprouting green hair. He smiled and remembered his first day of school – a Muggle school he used to go to – and his teacher angering him. She thought he was asking too many questions, but he knew that was what school was for – learning as much as he could take in, no?

It so fell that his first day of school was also the day of his first bit of magic. It was not the last by far; his mind wandered and replayed a scene by a lake near his family's home where his brother was learning to swim. He was waiting in the deeper water for the tiny boy struggling with soft little waves. Encouraging him along, the five year old leaped further towards his brother. He was watching and laughing, but grew concerned when his brother didn't come out. He panicked, and swam towards where he last saw him. At that moment, energy charged through him and there was a loud plop. A huge air bubble emitted from the water, holding his breathless brother. The little boy gave his brother thumbs-up, saying: "do that again!" he remembered he was surprised and confused, but happy that his brother was okay.

Smiling, he found himself still rooted at the spot in front of the untaken photograph of his old green-haired teacher. He then remembered his mother coming to get him and taking him home. His little brother was there to greet him, as was his father. "My big, big boy!" His dad exclaimed, almost pushing a large package into his son's hands. Surprised, he tore the paper from it, revealing his very first camera. He always loved his dad's camera, and now he had his very own! Excited, he took his very first picture. Mum, dad and his brother were on it, well, most of them – he cut the legs away.

He was ready now to move on, to see what there was waiting for him next. Walking for undefined amount of time, just as the wall was becoming boring, he saw another frame, containing another picture.

There was a sandbox in a park, and there were a boy and a girl in it, each building their own sandcastle on a sand island. The sun was shining through the green trees, letting through a soft and somewhat fairy tale-ish light. Staring at the picture of him and his childhood friend laughing and playing together, he truly remembered Ann for the first time in years. They promised they would always be friends. She had an uncommon air about her, and her dark hair was always perfect. She told him that day in the sandbox, that no man was an island. He didn't quite understand what she meant back then, but he remembered it for the rest of his life. Feeling guilty for seldom remembering her as they grew up, he walked onwards, pondering and sorting through his memories of Ann.

Stopping at the next picture – and the wall knew exactly the time to present it – he let go of his thoughts of islands and sandcastles and focused at the photograph before him.

It showed an excited young version of himself, standing in a train station with his brother and father. He was boarding the Hogwarts Express, and was on his journey to become who he was born to be, he thought. His cheeks were flushed, and although it looked like he was one of the smallest, he was sure he had enough excitement for at least ten people. He studied all the books about his new world carefully and just couldn't wait to experience everything in them on his own. Saying somewhat teary goodbyes to his brother and dad – he nearly never left his brother's side since he was born – walked through a wall just like the Professor from his new school told him to do after they finished his shopping. Clutching his camera tightly in one hand and dragging his trunk in the other, he somehow managed to find a compartment. Soon more kids joined him, and he just couldn't stop asking questions and absorbing every tale and legend they told him.

Upon arriving at Hogwarts, he was as scared of the Sorting as all of his new friends. But when a strict Professor lead them into the Great Hall, he was so amazed by the marvelous ceiling with no end that he forgot about his nervousness until his name was called. Stumbling towards the chair and putting on a large hat, he got consumed by the darkness of it. A voice started telling him about himself, and he knew it was all true, and he was proud of it. Because the Hat talked of bravery and selflessness, and told him that he is the newest Gryffindor. Joining his new family he started rumbling right away, knowing that he had a few glorious years ahead.

Brought back to reality – was being dead really reality? – he nervously continued his journey down memory lane. Stumbling upon the next photo he remembered the still scene in the frame.

It was his first summer after Hogwarts, and he was sitting with his brother on a hill, watching the sun set. His brother, as curious as he was (and he was rather proud that he got that trait from him), never stopped asking questions. And he told him all about flying cars and giant petrifying snakes and large halls and endless corridors and singing amours and ghosts. And he told him about Quidditch, and wands and Professors, of his new friends and Harry Potter and of everything he learned. Regretting that he was turned into a stone for months and couldn't tell his brother more, he assured him that one day soon, he would get his letter, too, and could see it on his very own. And his brother was thrilled and flipped again through the stack of moving photographs he took just for him. Although he was twelve already, he hugged his brother close and they watched the sun set behind the horizon.

He really had quite a stack of memories about Hogwarts, he thought, still standing in front of the never-taken picture of a glorious sunset. After that memory the whiteness of the wall as kind of disturbing, so it supplied him with a new picture to look at and remember.

It was his brother's Sorting; they were finally on the same school. The frightened first-years just walked into the Hall, and he was searching for his brother frantically. He remembered when he spotted him, all tiny and wet, and almost got a heart attack. But they gave each other thumbs-up and he knew his brother was fine. When it was his little sibling's turn to be Sorted, he was even more anxious and scared than at his own Sorting. When the hat yelled Gryffindor, he was so relieved and welcomed his young brother happily, introducing him to Harry, who was a somewhat of an obsession for him at the time.

But that obsession grew to loyalty, and friendship, he thought. Moving onto the next photograph, he got a proof of his thoughts. It was the first official DA meeting in the Come And Go Room. He was practicing the disarming charm with his brother, only a second-year. He felt saddened that they had to learn to fight at such a young age, but there was little else they could do in a situation they found themselves in. Although their reasons weren't pleasant, their meetings gave him a feel of hope and unity. It was a good thing, the right thing and the only possible thing to do. It was the one thing that kept them from feeling totally helpless in a dark time.

Seeing where it all began, the rebellion, and later an army, if you will, he moved on. Knowing that all that was left was even darker times, with hope fading quickly, he walked over to the next picture, seeing it in walking past it.

Although he expected to see more misery and despair, the photograph brought to mind one of the rays in that darkening world. It is funny, he thought, how people find happiness and love when they don't really look for it consciously; and yet how much they need it at those exact moments.

It was him, stealing moments from happiness they weren't really allowed to enjoy in those times. Although he was always thought of being rather carefree and ignorant, his Ravenclaw classmate saw through him, sow his despair and anger and worry and self-inflicted responsibility for his brother. Luna was a truly amazing girl, even though he thought of her as wacky and weird for most of the time. They began dating, sort of – it wasn't like dating really, nothing was like anything with Luna. They were talking a lot, and sometimes they would hug and always offer comfort to each other. She was simply Luna, and he knew how lucky he was to have a friend like her.

Moving onwards, he spotted a photo before moving past it for the first time; and he knew what it would be. With fear, he stared at his motionless body on the ground again. But there was something different about his former face – it was calm and content.

He sat on the floor and leaned against the white wall. He looked around the strange circular gallery again, at all of his moments, stolen from eternity, created by his own soul, taking in everything that meant so much to him. He knew now where he was; he was walking his own soul, taking a tour of his life. Worrying for his brother one last time, leaving one last thought of his dad and thinking of mum, and Luna and Ann and everybody that mattered, he prepared himself for a decision he knew had came. He didn't know how he knew it, and it left him confused.

He was thinking of everything he could have – and should have enjoyed in years to come, of everything he would never have. He would never have children or grandchildren, he would never see his brother happy and he would never help his father at home again. He knew he wouldn't stay behind, but the thought of leaving was still frightening.

Standing up, he looked around photographs his soul had taken over the years. He led a full and good life; he missed nothing. He had love and happiness, and he was glad for it.

With a final tear, Colin stepped through a new door that just appeared on his left, and decided to wait as Dennis lived his life in blessed peace and deserved freedom.

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